


In the Wake of Loss

by Katalyna_Rose



Series: Kahlia Mahariel [11]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 17:47:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9669419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katalyna_Rose/pseuds/Katalyna_Rose
Summary: Zevran knew there was every chance that Kahlia would not return to him as he had pleaded with her to do. And she did not return, killed on the top of Fort Drakkon by the Archdemon. Mourning her loss will take him a lifetime, even with the unsolicited comfort her adoptive mother tries to provide.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I am so deep in PTSD I've forgotten what sunlight is.
> 
> I'll be fine guys, but I've got some dark stuff going on in my writing.

Zevran approached the carved stone effigy with care, as if his very presence would cause it to shatter. It was very lifelike, painfully so; the curve of the cheek and the point of the chin and the softness of the lips were so agonizingly familiar to Zevran. Kahlia lay before him, her carved hair in the style she preferred with those little sprigs of unruly hair laying gently on her cheeks. With shaking fingers, he drew his knuckles down the statue’s cheek as he had done so many times when she was alive.

He was aware of the intruder the moment they entered the courtyard, but he didn’t turn to look. Whoever it was likely was there to pay respects to the reason they were alive, as he was. Or it was a Crow there to kill him. Either way, they were beneath his notice.

“You are the assassin, then?” a vaguely familiar voice asked. “You were contracted to kill ma da’len?” It was the use of Elvhen that had Zevran turning from his study of his lover’s effigy. Behind him, he saw the Dalish woman who had accepted the thanks and privileges awarded to Kahlia on her behalf and on behalf of her clan.

“I was paid to kill her,” he confirmed. “I failed.” He turned back to the likeness of the only woman he could ever love.

“I do not believe you consider that a failing, though,” the woman said, her voice a bit rough with age and many tears. His own voice sounded much the same. “She left me a letter, you know. She left several, in fact. One for me, one for the Keeper, and one for her friends in the clan. She told me about you.”

Zevran looked at her with renewed interest. “You would be Ashalle, then? The woman who raised her?” She smiled a little.

“Yes, I am,” she confirmed. “Kahlia was not born of my body, but she was still my daughter in every way that mattered. She spoke to you of me?”

Zevran thought of the night after she’d been forced to kill Tamlen. He’d held her tight in his arms as their group moved camp, as she wept ceaselessly and seemed unaware of her surroundings. She’d spoken then, but he doubted very much that she’d had any memory of her words. She’d accidentally revealed far more about her life with her clan that night than she ever had before or since.

“She… preferred not to speak of her clan much,” Zevran admitted truthfully. Ashalle nodded.

“She was always so devoted to the clan and her people,” the woman said, looking mournfully at Kahlia’s effigy. “I would imagine that to speak of us after she’d been torn away as she had would have been very painful.” They were silent for a moment, both looking at the stone likeness of one whom they loved and remembering her.

“It was so kind of the new king to have this made for her,” Ashalle said suddenly, startling Zevran out of his study of Kahlia’s closed eyes. The statue even had eyelashes. Then her words registered and he snorted.

“She is the only reason he is king, and the only reason he is alive,” Zevran said derisively. “This is the very _least_ he could do for her.”

“She would not have seen it that way,” the woman said soothingly. Zevran had to make a conscious effort not to snort again.

“She is not here to tell us so,” he said harshly, then immediately regretted his words when he heard her soft intake of breath. He was better than this. At least, he was better since loving Kahlia. He was doing her memory no pride by treating her mother in such a way. He sighed, but couldn’t quite bring himself to apologize.

“She would not want you to dwell on this loss,” Ashalle said softly, barely more than a whisper. “She would want you to love again, to lead a full life.” Zevran stroked the effigy’s cheek again.

“She was everything that made my life full,” he told her in a whisper. “She woke me up, taught me what love is.”

“From what I understand, you did the same for her,” she murmured. He looked up sharply, and she smiled softly. “She was… well, the human equivalent would be betrothed, I suppose. She was all but promised to a hunter named Tamlen. It was the clan’s expectations for her, for them both, that drove her to accept him as she did. Though she kept delaying the wedding, she never refused him. And he loved her, I think, but in her heart she knew she could have more if she only waited. She loved him in the way she loved all her friends, but the way she loved you was entirely different. In her letter, she told me of her love for you. She asked me to tell you what I thought of it all, though I’m not really sure why she wanted that.”

Zevran knew. He stroked the effigy’s cheek again as more tears began to slide down his face. He’d thought he was out of tears, but this loss, this pain, kept proving him wrong. And he knew why Kahlia would ask her adoptive mother to tell him what she thought of him and their love; it was one last chance to show him his worth to her and to the world. She’d always gotten that same twist in her lips when he made self-deprecating jokes, and she’d always argued against that view he had of himself. Even after death, she was trying to save him.

“I think that ma da’assan was very lucky to have found you,” Ashalle told him when he remained silent. “I think that you must be a truly wonderful man for her to have loved you as she did. Even if she hadn’t been forced to join the Grey Wardens, I think she would have given up kin and clan for you if the two of you had met under different circumstances, and that is not something to take lightly. Kahlia was unendingly loyal to her clan, and she took her duty to us very seriously even though she sometimes skipped lessons to go hunting with Tamlen. She wouldn’t have given it up for anyone but you, I think.”

Without thinking about it, Zevran told her his favorite story of Kahlia. “I told her once that my mother was Dalish and left her clan when she fell in love with a wood cutter outside Antiva City. The only thing I had of hers after she died giving birth to me was a pair of Dalish gloves. I used to stare at them for hours and imagine what her life must have been like. Even though once I was sold to the Crows I was not permitted to have such things, I kept them until they were discovered and taken from me. In our travels, weeks after this conversation when I had all but forgotten about it, she found a pair of Dalish gloves that matched what little description I had given her of the ones that had been my mother’s. They were lovely and no doubt reminded her of home, but instead of keeping them she chose to give them to me. It was the first time I had ever received a gift, and to be given such a beautiful keepsake… I had no words to thank her. She seemed like she must surely be some sort of spirit sent to tempt me as she smiled with obvious pleasure at my fumbling attempt to thank her. She took such joy from giving gifts, to me and to the others. I’ll never forget Leliana’s face when Kahlia presented her with Andraste’s Grace, a flower that her mother favored when she was alive.”

“Kahlia had a generous soul,” Ashalle agreed softly. “She loved little more than making sure those around her were happy, comfortable. When she a small, she would pick wildflowers and tie them into bouquets to give to me. I would hang them in our aravel to dry them. By the time she was forced to leave us, the entire ceiling of our aravel was covered in bundles of dried flowers.”

“She would give me gold and silver bars,” he admitted softly, sniffling slightly. “She gave me a currency that could be used across Thedas. Each one she found, and she found several, she gave to me when the others weren’t looking. She never said why, but I knew; she was making sure I wasn’t dependent on her. I made a vow to fight for her until the Blight was over or she released me from my vow. She gave me the money so that, when the time came, I could go where I chose. She thought that I might perhaps simply take the money and go, and yet I don’t think she would have been angry if I had. I would never, of course. I had made a vow to her, and she was far too intriguing for me to wish to abandon her, let alone return to the life I knew. But most others, if they hadn’t killed me after I failed to kill them, would have kept me as firmly under their thumb as they could; that would have included keeping me financially dependent. But not Kahlia.” He laughed through his tears. “She didn’t know it, but by giving me the means to leave she made certain I would stay.”

Ashalle was silent for a long moment. “Ir abelas,” she finally whispered, the words thick with tears. Zevran had heard those words from Kahlia when he spoke of his past, and he knew enough to guess at their meaning.

“I wouldn’t have changed a single second of it,” he told her. “If I could go back, even knowing what I feel now that she’s gone, I would do everything exactly as I did again.” Carefully, Zevran leaned over Kahlia’s effigy and kissed its lips. He imagined for a moment that instead of cold stone he was met with warm, soft flesh and Kahlia’s delighted gasp. “Te amo, mi preciosa. I will never forget you,” he whispered to Kahlia’s empty grave. At that moment, a warm breeze swept through the courtyard and leaves rustled and the sun shone a little brighter as the unexpectedly warm air lifted Zevran’s hair. For just a moment, it was as if he heard Kahlia’s voice on the wind saying the words she’d told him as many times as she could before the end, the ones he understood but she thought he didn’t.

“Ar lath ma,” the breeze whispered to him, and the effigy seemed to smile just a little.


End file.
